


A House That Didn't Exist

by daniko



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Character Study, Injury, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were two moments in Erik’s life that changed everything; one was his mother’s death. And the other . . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House That Didn't Exist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRose/gifts).



> First, I’d like to apologise for the lack of beta-reading. I’m very, very new to the fandom (as in, I finished watching the film for the second time ten minutes before starting this fic) and I still don’t know my way around. For that same reason, this piece turned out more character-study-ish than I’d hoped, but well. It was to be expected. I hope I managed to make it something you can enjoy all the same. Further apologies for any slaughter of medical theoretics. Lastly, I’d like to wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY, honey. Hopefully, it’ll be followed by many, many more, full of happiness and love. ^___^ Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: This is basically my Fix It fic. Being the first, it lacks a bit in character development, maybe? Must work on it.

At first, there was hurt, followed by anger. “ _I’m sorry, my friend, but we do not_.” Rejection. Did he think that would change? His followers, they were looking for guidance, leadership. Still alone. Rage, pain and guilt.

Two blue eyes – not full of accusation, no, which would have been better – wary, empathetic, sympathetic. An unbelievable stillness when the truth became apparent. Blame. From all, but one; one who wasn’t angry, but so _disappointed_ his stare was akin to pin-prickles under Erik’s skin.

The spinal damage would not be permanent, but that wasn’t the point. Recovery would be slow and painful. Charles Xavier, disillusioned. No longer a playful, jogging kind of bloke. 

There was Raven, looking up to him, not minding at all that they were living in Shaw’s house, or the disturbing pictures hanging in the wall. No, none of them minded in the very least. But Erik still felt itchy, drifting. His purpose had been very clear a few weeks ago, now he wasn’t so sure what to do about it.

There was something in the back of his mind, all the time. A debt not paid. A friend lost. Erik needed closure.

*** 

“ _Good morning, dear students. Breakfast will be served in thirty minutes_.”

Erik groaned, turned to the other side and hoped like hell the alarm clock wouldn’t chirp the politely empty message again, but it was useless. Erik was yet to find a way to unset the automatic memo. Furthermore, it felt idiotic to engage Charles in a battle of wills when Charles’s envoy was an alarm clock shaped like an X.

It didn’t take long for Erik to skip down the stairs and enter the dining room. The table was as sumptuously set as usual. What wasn’t usual, however, was the missing person at the head of the table. “Where’s Charles?”

“Good morning to you, too,” growled Hank.

Erik opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, “I’m sorry for the delay,” Charles said from behind him, somewhere on the vicinity of his waist. “I see everyone is already here,” he noticed cheerfully. “Good.”

Charles made his way to his seat and, after a brief pause, Erik did the same; right at the other extreme of the table. Everyone became tense and wary, like they usually did these days, every time Charles and Erik were in the same room. An awkward moment passed through.

Charles sipped his coffee and ate his eggs and toast.

“I have to go to the University today and I probably won’t be back in time to give you the afternoon course,” he said, all of a sudden. It wasn’t an unusual event, it wasn’t even one of his busiest days, but there was something different about it. “I need you to say here in the school,” he told Azazel and Riptide. It was remarkable how quickly he had taken to them. Or not; since he probably had a broadcast of their loyalties.

“You’re lying,” Erik found himself saying.

Charles clenched his jaw. It was an unsettling sight. “A minute, Erik,” he requested, putting down his silverware. It could have been a suggestion aimed at his subconscious for how fast Erik got up and followed him, without even getting why.

Charles stopped in the hallway, looking much too imposing for a man dressed in a three-piece suit, who had to look up to glower. “I lied, Erik, because I’m going to the University’s hospital for the first trial of Hank’s research. I’m going to be stabbed in my spinal-cord and injected with cell-eating antibodies and stem cells that will, hopefully, give me back the use of my legs. Only I didn’t want to upset anyone, thank you very much!” He punctuated his words with a stab at his direction controls and wheeled away.

They met again late in the evening, Erik made sure of that. Just to get a rise out of Charles. 

Charles had looked remarkably surprised the first time he saw Erik in his private office, a few weeks after Erik returned to the Academy, his bunch of misfits in tow. Especially considering that it was where they’d spent most of their days _before _. The chess was still between the two armchairs in front of the fireplace. Charles had hesitated, then; looked back towards the door, but ended up coming in.__

Now, this second time, he didn’t hesitate. His wheelchair was electronic, of course, top generation; he didn’t need people to usher him around. Charles was still as strong as ever. Erik couldn’t help but to notice that he did look tired, though; his face clammy, as if he was in pain. He probably was. Should he even be out of bed?

“You remember Logan,” Charles began, shoving aside the chair directly in front of Erik and taking its place. Erik did: the muscled, hairy, ill-tempered bloke they had tracked months ago. “He has a remarkable talent; heals at a mind-blowing rate. You can’t imagine the things they have done to him.” Erik snorted. No worse than _they_ had done to him, surely. “Hank thinks Logan’s cells grow fast enough to replace mine. Hank is looking into matching our tissues. Logan should be here in a few days.” Erik watched Charles stare out of the window. “Though I am starting to think I ought to give up and accept my new limitations.”

This was the most Charles had resembled himself in months. “Hank wouldn’t lead us— _you_ on.”

“Maybe he is in denial himself.”

“They look up to you.” Charles chuckled diffidently, but it was true; they _all_ did. Charles kept them together, with his utter and total confidence in their inner goodness, their potential. It sort of made them want to live up to it. Erik half-wanted to break away from that sort of influence, or else bask in it. And he was the one who had got closer; closer even than Raven, because _he_ was seen as an equal by Charles.

Or had been, possibly.

It was what was keeping Erik in the Academy; the sense of belonging he hadn’t felt since before the Nazi. It gave him a simmering confidence that felt like strength. Erik appreciated strength.

Erik felt this strong urge to make amends, to go out finding mutants with Charles, give them a home. There was also the urge to make sure none of them was ever hurt again for being different. Charles needed to understand that. “I still think humans are waste,” he said. Charles’s head came around to stare at him. “Natural selection won’t choose us, not unless we fight. I haven’t changed my mind, but Raven, Angel and the others; they finally belong. And they need to belong if they want to be strong enough.”

Charles said slowly, “We’re stronger together. Is that why you’re still here?”

“True. I had hoped we always saw eye-to-eye. We don’t. So, for now, I’ll stay. We’ll have to try and find away to meet halfway. If you want,” he added, as an afterthought.

Charles’s face had relaxed and his eyes gleamed with excitement. “Wonderful. That’s just wonderful, my friend. Yes, I—,” he chuckled suddenly. “Did you know, it is believed that multi-cellular beings evolved from single-cell organisms that learned to live together and share responsibilities? Just imagine, our strength and complexity, all born from team-work,” he said playfully.

Erik rolled his eyes. Charles’s grin softened into a gentle smile and he placed his hand on top of Erik’s on the chess table. “You are very welcome here, my friend. Every one of us is, and will always be. This is our home.”

Erik remained very still, unsure on how to react as all the pieces slid into their places suddenly. Yes, of course. Friend. Home. Charles. It all made very much sense. What to do, then? What to say?

“May I ask, though,” Charles put in, withdrawing his hand, interrupting Erik’s thoughts, “do you feel like you belong here, as well? I don’t think there would even be a place to belong to if you hadn’t convinced me we needed each other. You made us a family.”

Erik was startled into laughter. “I’m afraid I only wanted an army of angry, talented kids.”

“Why are you sitting in my office, then?” Charles demanded. Ha hadn’t liked Erik’s reply, obviously. “You can stay; I give you my word on that. So, why put up with my _naiveté_?”

“Good question. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Charles’s lips twisted. “I could guess, I think. You want the others proud; strong, ready to defend themselves and their brothers and sisters. You want the humans to acknowledge us. You want us free. Not restrained, marked, valued by our usefulness. You think that’s all humans would do to you.”

Erik glowered. “Don’t make this about—.”

“I’m not. You are. You might want to remember who exactly performed those experiments on you. It wasn’t a human, was it?” Charles asked. Erik stared coolly at Charles. “Your problem, Erik,” continued Charles, gentler, touching Erik’s hand again easily, “is that you don’t see us as human. That is your prejudice. We _are_ human. We haven’t evolved enough yet. We are human, all of us, only we have more blatant qualities than multi-coloured eyes or auburn hair. All human; some good and some bad.”

“I wish they would understand that,” Erik snipped, sarcastic.

Charles smiled, squeezed Erik’s hand. “I do, too. We’ll get there. Maybe even in time for us to see.”

It was this moment; it that felt like absolution.

***

Other times, it felt like he was suspended in time, waiting for something that was yet to be defined.

The routine at the Academy was as mundane as possible, with classes and training sessions. (It nagged at Erik that Charles was raising a bloody _army_ , but was too naive to see it.) Everyone looked quite contended.

Yet there were things that bothered Erik. Like the way Angel shied away from even Banshee’s touch sometimes, and the kid still thought the greatest thing you could do with a woman was to touch a breast. Or, how, every now and then, Alex would lock himself in his room and stay there for days. Charles also noticed these things, but he seemed to think “a bit of a talk” in his private sitting room solved the issue. Only it didn’t.

Unlike Charles, Erik didn’t believe in molly-coddling and doing things at one’s own pace. He believed in taking the bull by the horns, so to speak. Thus why he decided that, since he was waiting for that unnamed something, anyway, he might as well lend a hand in raising four sullen teenagers and the hundreds that followed as soon as the Cerebro was ready.

It was after the first students’ reunion – five years after they met – that Erik burst into Charles’s bedroom with an epiphany; one could change the world a person at a time. By making their kids outstanding people, they could _win_ the fight for survival and the humans wouldn’t even notice it. In fact, they would gleefully embrace defeat.

Charles, who had had been in process of shifting from his wheelchair to his bed, said, “Good of you to get there. I think they call that _evolving_. Now, if you could lend me a hand—.”

Erik did. He didn’t leave Charles’s room again— _their_ room, now; he also found what he had been looking for. It wasn’t Charles, _per se_. It was a house that technically didn’t exist, children nobody wanted; and a man who categorically refused to believe he was growing bald (which he _was_ ), but made sure everyone else learned how to believe in themselves.

*

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve got so much to tell that the top note just wasn’t enough. All right, I LOVE SUPER-HEROS. Really. X-Men are just a small fraction of it. But the main reason I enjoyed this film the first time, and just as much this once, is because of the premise. Evolution. I don’t think there is a biologist on this earth (and, thus, yours truly) that doesn’t appreciate the wonder that is evolution. The other X-Men films have barely grazed the surface on this subject, but FIRST CLASS took it a step further. They took it to Xavier and Magneto. Quite the romantic notion, I’m afraid, that of opposites attract. Oh, well.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, KEVIN _fucking_ BACON! I waited so long to squee over this. Not the _best_ villain ever, maybe, but certainly the most unexpected, IMO.


End file.
